I can do lots of things with dental floss.
I can make a tripwire just outside my front door. This provides endless amusement for me. I set the trap and then I go inside and call people and invite them over for a glass of wine and a Tarot reading. Then, I stand with my eye pressed to the peephole and wait. The other night, Jamie walked unsuspectingly up to my door. I threw open the door to welcome her. When the cat ran out, I expected him to trip and fall on his little whiskered face. Of course, he is much too graceful for my clever prank. I darted out after him and naturally, fell flat on my face. Jamie laughed at first, so I made her go to the drugstore to buy Neosporin for my scrapes.
If Jamie had fallen, I would not have laughed. Or at least I wouldn't have laughed for as long as she did. Rather, I would have offered to suture her wounds with floss (unflavored, unwaxed). I am pretty sure that it wouldn't leave a scar.
I am so good with floss that I can reach my teeth way in the back of my mouth without gagging myself even once. I leave nests of used floss on the table next to the couch. This practice repulses many of my guests, but when I show them how all my cat's little craps lift neatly out of his litter box like pearls on a string, they see the genius behind my slovenly habits.
I love floss so much that I have stopped getting my eyebrows waxed in favor of having them threaded. Every few weeks, I stop by my local Pakistani beauty salon and Abida shapes my brows to perfection. She always asks if she can do my upper lip. I decline, but it is starting to give me a complex. Other than that, I love having my brows threaded. It reminds me of going to the dentist only I can talk while I recline in the chair. Abida holds a length of floss in her teeth and weaves the other end into an intricate Jacob's Ladder. She moves her fingers like a puppet master and plucks my stray brow hairs. We talk about my pores and the best place to get Pakistani food and and the many, many uses of dental floss.
Abida is different than my dental hygienist in so many ways. She has perfect brows and also she is never pregnant. My dental hygienist is always pregnant. I call her Pregasaurus behind her back because she likes to wear scrubs covered in tiny dinosaurs. She's never slightly pregnant. She is always very pregnant. She can't get close enough to me to reach my molars due to her round (and remarkably adorable) belly and the last time I saw her she burst into tears because I told her that I am never going to part with my wisdom teeth. She thought that was beautiful and told me that she feels the same way about three of her seven kids. My dental hygienist never mentions any trace of my alleged upper lip hair.
The last time I saw Abida, I asked her if she only threaded facial hair. She informed me that she is available to thread all sorts of body hair by appointment only. I promised to make a bikini appointment soon.
Yesterday, I had a dental appointment. Apparently, after a little nitrous oxide, I dropped my pants and asked Pregasaurus to clean up my bikini line.
I have been asked to find a new dentist.